Snowbird Summer
by sentinel28
Summary: An impossible romance.  Perhaps, but then again, it's an impossible war.  As summer ends, friends may become lovers.
1. Once More Into the Breach

_**SNOWBIRD SUMMER**_

_**A Short Story of the Sentinels**_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ _To be honest, I'd almost forgotten about these stories, concentrating on the moment on _Neon Genesis Evangelion Evolution _and _The Hunters and the Hunted _(not to mention real life and the continued struggle to get my "real" book published...sigh),_ _but recent reviews by ProjectVORTEX, Zmuh11, and especially Bienvenido Canonizado have reminded me that the Snowbirds still have a lot of story to tell! So here it is, the second story arc in the "Snowbird Saga" that will take Sheila Arla-Vlata and her friends through the Clan War of _Classic Battletech.

_There is kind of a rather jarring change from the end of _Snowbird Ascendant _to the beginning of _Snowbird Summer. _The reason is that I could never come up with a satisfactory bridge between the planning session on Sudeten to the next battle–so I just threw in hints in the text. Hope that's good enough. Also note that I make a few references to the Sentinels' first battle against the Clans, on Persistence. Don't bother looking for that chapter in _Snowbird Ascendant; _I've never written that story and probably never will at the rate I'm going._

_Note that in official _Battletech _canon, there is only one battle on Blackjack (the one mentioned in this first chapter). There was never a Lightning Regiment and never a second battle on that planet–this is all my invention. It seems to me, however, that during the brief Clan pause between waves, that the Inner Sphere would do nothing but sit there, especially the offensive-minded generals of the AFFC. Of course, as this story shows, it probably would be better if they _had...

Snowbird Summer _takes place roughly between Chapters 25 and 27 of Michael Stackpole's novel, _Lethal Heritage.

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE:

It is the year 3050. An Inner Sphere on the brink of peace has been struck by invaders from beyond known space. These Clans, as they call themselves, armed with new and devastating battle technology, have overrun planet after planet. No one knows who they are. No one knows their goals. No one seems to be able to stop them.

A new generation of MechWarriors has risen to to the challenge. Most of them not yet twenty, these young warriors, still with the exuberance and innocence of youth, are sent into battle in a desperate effort to stem the invasion. Many will die. Some will survive. A few will become legends.

This is the story of Sheila Arla-Vlata, a young MechWarrior in the service of the mercenary regiment known as the Sentinels Regimental Combat Team. Nicknamed "Snowbird" by her father for an incident in her youth, she graduated from the prestigious Nagelring military academy just prior to the arrival of the Clans, and fought them well in her first combat action, on Persistence. A few months later, she won the Commonwealth Star saving the life of her friend and fellow MechWarrior, Mimi Stykkis, on Rasalhague. Unfortunately, Mimi was badly wounded, and is now confined to a wheelchair.

As the war enters its fifth month with no victory in sight for the forces of the Inner Sphere, the commanders of the Armies of the Federated Commonwealth have hatched a plan to strike back at the Clans. And so Sheila Arla-Vlata and her friends Tooriu Kku and Max Canis-Vlata go back to war…

"_Let your plans be dark and as impenetrable as the night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt."_

_--Sun-Tzu, The Art of War_

_Blackjack Sector 30-893_

_Blackjack, Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth_

_5 July 3050_

Sheila Arla-Vlata checked her watch, sighed, and went back to eating her ramen. The noodles were tasteless, but they filled, and that was what she needed at the moment. They had been on Blackjack for six hours, and the dreaded Clan Jade Falcon had yet to make an appearance.

The Lightning Regiment had made its drop unannounced and in the middle of the night, and brushed aside minimal resistance from the Jade Falcons. The scout lances had gone out into the steppe that surrounded the city of Reno and the campus of the Blackjack School of Conflict. The scouts had found nothing, and the Lightning Regiment had set up a defensive perimeter. The regiment's commander, Steven Broughton, planned to wait for the Jade Falcons to gather their forces for a deliberate attack on the Lightning positions. As soon as they massed, a battalion of the regiment's swiftest 'Mechs was to blaze around the Falcons' flank, destroy the Clan supply depots at Monaco, and pull out; the rest of the Lightning Regiment would cover them before pulling out themselves. If no Falcon resistance materialized, then the regiment was to liberate Blackjack. Either way, it would be the first offensive move by the Inner Sphere, and would give the Clans something to think about. The plan had been gamed out back on Sudeten, and approval had been granted by the commanding general of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth, Morgan Hasek-Davion. At his request, several members of the Sentinels RCT had been chosen to join the newly-formed Lightning Regiment, bringing their experience to the field; Sheila had been one of the chosen.

She had agreed to the request, though inwardly she questioned the plan. It assumed the Jade Falcons would be slow to engage their opponents and quickly outmanuevered, which Sheila had learned from painful experience was not true. It was true that fully eighty percent of the Lightning Regiment had combat experience against the Clans, but few of them had worked together before, the regiment put together from volunteers, mercenary companies, and the shattered remnants of a few regiments already overrun by the Clans. To Sheila, it seemed like the whole plan was done in desperate hope that something might come of it. Steven Broughton was an experienced commander with an excellent pedigree, but Sheila would have preferred being in her own unit with her own lancemates; Broughton had personally assigned her to his command lance for the sound reason that she was one of the most experienced Clan fighters that was still alive.

"Tango One Alpha from Oscar Papa Two." Her radio came to life. "I have movement in my sector, over."

Sheila sat up and quickly finished off the ramen. Oscar Papa was one of the scout lances ahead of the company she was in. "Go, Oscar Papa," Broughton—Tango One Alpha—replied.

"Multiple paints, Tango. Approximately fifteen enemy 'Mechs in sight. No battlearmor. Repeat, no Toads." Sheila breathed a sigh of relief at that. Toads was the nickname for the man-sized battlearmor the Clans called Elementals. By themselves, they were little threat, but in packs, which they usually traveled in, they could be deadly, swarming an opponent like army ants. Fighting other BattleMechs was, as her father would say, honest work.

"Oscar Papa, Tango One. Hightail it out of there and reform to the rear."

"Ten-roger, Tango. Oscar Papa out."

Sheila readied herself and her 'Mech, a sixty ton _Shruiken_. Basically an upgraded and much heavier version of the WLF-2 _Wolfhound_, the _Shruiken_ was fast and mobile, with a top speed of 82 kilometers an hour. It armed two particle projection cannons and four medium lasers, plus its namesake—a launcher that fired two meter tungsten stars, filled with napalm. There were already four kill marks on the 'Mech's right torso, and Sheila intended to add more. Fifteen Clan OmniMechs, which usually outgunned and outranged their Inner Sphere opponents, would be tough going, but Broughton's command company was larger than usual and excellent terrain to fight in. "Tango One Alpha to Tango Lance," Broughton radioed. "Get into fighting positions. Check in." His voice was steady and assured.

"Tango Two Alpha, up." That would be Mary Scott, a fellow Sentinel. Mary was young and beautiful, knew it, and liked it. She was arrogant, cocky, and liked to boast how many kills she would get. Her _Wasp_ was a light 'Mech, not designed to do the things she apparently planned. Sheila did not know Scott very well, nor did she plan on changing that.

"Tango Three Alpha, up," Andrew Delaney chimed in. Sheila knew Delaney, an old classmate from the Nagelring. He was something of a ladykiller, and had already tried his luck with Sheila, who had politely turned him down. Delaney had taken it with an easy laugh; he was affable and, from what Sheila had seen in simulations and heard about from combat experience, a consummate MechWarrior. His _Banshee_, one of the brand new types off the production line, already had five kill stars.

"Tango Four Alpha, up." Shawn Fraser was the one MechWarrior Sheila worried about; he was one of the twenty percent of the Lightning Regiment that had no combat experience. Fraser was fresh out of the New Avalon Military Academy and quite clearly felt out of his league. His _Archer_ was brand new.

Sheila thumbed the radio switch on her right joystick. "Tango Five Alpha, up." One of Broughton's innovations was to switch to a five-'Mech setup for the lances under his personal command, turning the Clans' own organization against them.

"Tango Lance, listen up," Broughton told them. "Our job here is to hold for a few minutes, then fall back on the company behind us. The Clans will run into two companies instead of just one, and we should be close enough to negate their range advantage. We also have a platoon of hovertanks that will nibble on their flanks once we get into the general melee. Hold fire until I give the word. Then let's mix it up and kick ass." Sheila looked over at Broughton's all-black _Marauder_. He had done this before on Barcelona, and it had worked–long enough for his former unit, the 17th Skye Rangers, to escape. Broughton, Sheila had noticed at the briefing before the drop, was a bit full of himself, but his voice had betrayed no nerves either then or now. She saw Scott's _Wasp_ pause before the _Marauder_, and smiled; on the trip from Sudeten, she had noticed Broughton's active pursuit of Scott, something she returned with zest. Sheila felt a brief pang of envy for the other Sentinel–she hadn't been on a date in months–then returned her mind to the job at hand.

Sheila moved her _Shruiken_ forward to the spot she had picked. It was a niche between two cliffs that exposed very little of her 'Mech, and had a ready-made firing rest for the twin PPCs in her right arm. To either side of her, two more lances took up position, making a stand along a line of limestone hills that rose abruptly from the plain.

Sheila was glad of the bubble canopy of her 'Mech, which gave her excellent visibility. She made out the oncoming Clan 'Mechs, and felt a curious mix of fear and excitement in her stomach. It would be her third combat engagement, but already she felt like a veteran. "Tango One Alpha, Five Alpha. I've got a Clan medium unit moving in to engage, fifteen 'Mechs…looks like three _Pumas, _five _Fenris_, three _Black Hawks_, and two _Thors._ Concur?"

"Concur, Five Alpha. Let them get in a bit closer."

The Clan 'Mechs approached in open order, spread out to avoid artillery strikes, moving quickly but carefully. The hills were an obvious place for ambush, but all their scanners were going to get was white noise, thanks to the remote electronic jammers Broughton had set along the line. A _Fenris_ was coming right towards her at a walk, and Sheila's fingers shook with adrenalin, waiting for the order to fire.

There was a haunting, eerie sound in her headphones, the ominous beep of a Beagle Probe. The Inner Sphere ECM pods were not yet ready to counter those. If the Clan 'Mechs had not detected them in that sweep, the next one would.

Broughton had heard it as well. "All Tango elements, engage!"

Delaney stepped his _Banshee_ out from behind a hill and opened fire with his 'Mech's Gauss Rifle. A steel ball cracked across the battlefield at several times the speed of sound, shattering the armor over the _Fenris_' left torso and actually spinning the Clan 'Mech around to face its assailant. It raised its arm and pointed at Delaney in clear challenge, despite the fact that the _Banshee_ outweighed the _Fenris_ by fifty tons.

A feral grin came to Sheila's lips, and she opened fire with her PPCs. "We aren't Kuritans, bastard!" she snarled to herself. "We don't fight one on one!" The azure light boiled the armor off of the Clan 'Mech's left leg, leaving only the smoking steel bone.

"He didn't go down, Five Alpha," Mary Scott said mockingly as she readied to engage with her _Wasp_.

Sheila, however, saw the _Fenris_ stagger and sway drunkenly as its MechWarrior tried to fight the universe's one immutable law—gravity. Gravity, predictably, won; the _Fenris_ crashed to the ground.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary," Sheila crowed. Delaney, moving in to finish the Clansman off, gave her a thumbs-up, and Sheila returned it.

Long range missiles boiled up from Fraser's _Archer_ and the battle was well and truly on. Scarlet laser bolts and missile trails began crisscrossing the battlefield, turning the once pristine steppe to charred wasteland. 'Mechs went down on both sides, some not getting back up, shuddering from internal explosions or vanishing in towering reactor overloads.

The Jade Falcons were taking the worse of it. They still hit harder than their opponents, but for once the Inner Sphere unit had the advantage of greater firepower and were not fighting according to Clan rules. For the first time, Sheila felt the Clan unit begin to break.

* * *

Maximillian Canis-Vlata sincerely prayed for such a heaven sent opportunity that had been given to his distant relative.

His lance—his now, since the lance commander's _Atlas_ was missing its head—were being forced backwards. The three 'Mechs that were left were being engaged by an equal number of Jade Falcons; though other Falcons were in position to fire, they held off, according to their own system of honor. Max supposed he should be grateful, but the three he was fighting were doing a great job on their own. "Bravo One, this is Echo Two," he called out. "We've got big problems over here in Sector two-seven."

"It's world of hurt over here too, Echo," came back Todd Thatcher, Max's company commander. There was a brief pop of static as Thatcher's _Banshee _fired a PPC. "See if you can hold on where you are; I'll try and get over to you. You hold them by the nose, and I'll kick 'em in the ass."

"Roger that," Max sighed. "Okay, Echo Lance. Let's hold the line for House Steiner, and all that other crap you house lifers like." That brought nervous laughs from his newfound command, who were all from House Steiner line units. Max was the only mercenary.

"Echo Two, this is Echo Four," came the voice of Reinhard Ritter, in an _Orion_ to Max's right. "The Clanners are pulling back!"

"What the hell?" Max asked himself. There was no way his lance had inflicted that kind of damage. The answer to his question came a moment later when artillery missiles began to explode up and down 2nd Company's line. They did not miss very often; Max saw a _Locust_ obliterated by one missile. "Space out your 'Mechs!" Max ordered.

"Echo Two, Bravo One!" Thatcher shouted. "There's a group of three light 'Mechs to your front—they're spotting for the artillery!"

"Roger; I see them." There were two _Ullers_ and a _Koshi_, moving quickly across the battlefield and engaging with their secondary weapons. Sighting on the _Koshi_, which was difficult, because it was small and quick, he opened fire with his _Hatchetman_'s autocannon. He missed, but the _Koshi_ was off-balance.

"Echo Four, Narc that _Koshi!"_ Max yelled. A small missile fired from a tube in the _Orion_'s right torso and struck the _Koshi_. The Narc missile's magnetic head clamped onto the Clan 'Mech and began beeping furiously. "All Echoes, kill the _Koshi!"_

The _Koshi_ swiftly became the center of attention for three 'Mechs, and went down under a fusillade of assorted missiles, lasers, and autocannon shells. An _Uller_ loped forward to help its comrade, but was engaged by another _Hatchetman_, who drove the Clan 'Mech to its knees with its autocannon and a savage swing of its namesake hatchet. "We've got them now!" the _Hatchetman_'s MechWarrior exclaimed jubilantly. The Clan 'Mechs were edging backwards, then without warning, turned and fled. The _Hatchetman_ finished off the _Uller_ and charged forwards, its MechWarrior yelling at the top of his lungs, "_Steiner!"_

"_Steiner!"_ returned the MechWarriors of Max's lance and those around him, and they took off after the Clan 'Mechs. Max almost followed them, then noticed that the Clan 'Mechs were not moving at their top speed. Instead, they were at a fast walk, which didn't make much sense for a unit that was fleeing for its life, especially uphill. Max's throat went dry and he realized what was happening. "Echo Lance! Hold fast! Stay with me!" He was ignored. Ritter charged up the slope, following the _Hatchetman_, who had been joined by a _Wasp_ and a _Wolverine_. "Hold, dammit! _It's a trap!"_

His sole remaining lancemate, whose name Max did not know, came up beside him at a run, his _Battlemaster_ shaking the ground. Max turned on him, raising his 'Mech's hatchet high. "Echo Three, stop right where you are or I'll bring this fucking axe down on your head." The _Battlemaster_'s pilot did not reply, but slowed to a halt.

Max heard screams of alarm, and whipped his 'Mech around to realize his worst fears. Popping up over the hill were three Clan OmniMechs. A _Thor_ stepped out and dropped the charging _Hatchetman_ with a single shot from a titanic autocannon. The _Wasp_ followed a second later, the _Wolverine_ disappeared behind the hill, and Ritter's _Orion_ staggered under heavy fire, though he gamely stood his ground and returned some of the punishment.

Max started forward to help, but was stopped by Thatcher's voice. "Echo Two, Bravo One. We've lost our flank over here. Better bug out." Max glanced over in that direction. Thatcher's _Banshee_ was falling back, but Max could see a _Cyclops_ and another _Atlas_ down, the remnants of Thatcher's command lance.

"Roger that, Bravo. Falling back to the rally point." He switched over to his lance's frequency. "Echo Four, get the hell out of there. We're covering you."

"Roger that, Two—" Ritter's voice was suddenly cut off. Before Max's horrified eyes, the _Orion_ was hit by a fusillade of laserfire and pitched backwards before its onboard ammunition detonated in a huge explosion. Stepping through the smoke was a _Mad Cat,_ which leveled its weapons directly at Max.


	2. Sound Retreat

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Short chapter this time around–didn't want to set up the big court-martial scene just yet._

Sheila was busily—and, though she hated to admit it, happily—sniping at a _Black Hawk_ which was trying desperately to close the range with her, and not succeeding very well. Already it was smoking from the numerous holes she had put in it, while its return fire had splashed harmlessly against the limestone around her. "Tango One Alpha from Homeplate," her radio abruptly crackled. It was the rear echelon command post, back at the DropShips.

"Tango Alpha," Broughton replied. "Go."

"Tango, our right flank just went. Thatcher's trying to rally Bravo Battalion, but they're under heavy attack. We need to commit Charlie Battalion."

"Homeplate, say again!" Broughton half-snarled. "Charlie is our raiding unit! We can't commit them yet!"

"Tango, if we don't get Charlie in there, Bravo is gone. They've already taken fifty percent casualties, and air recon reports that there's another Falcon unit edging around our left flank." The voice paused. "Sir, it's over. We have to pull out while we still have something left to fight with."

Broughton did not reply for a moment, and Sheila knew he was thinking. In her mind, she had a mental picture of the battlefield. Charlie Battalion would save Bravo if committed, but if it was, the plan to raid the Falcons' supplies—the main reason they were on Blackjack—was out of the question. There would be no time to implement the raid, and casualties would be too high to hold the line. Sheila cursed; the plan had failed, precisely because the Jade Falcons had done what the raid's planners had said they would not do, reacted quickly and skillfully.

"Authenticate, Homeplate," Broughton snapped. It could be Clansmen playing radio games, though Sheila doubted it.

"Roger, Tango. Authentication is Falcon. Countersign?"

"Ape. Shit. All right, Homeplate, send in Charlie Battalion. We'll fall back to the rally point. Break, break. Tango Lance, you heard. Fall back."

Sheila sighed. Tango Lance's luck had held admirably so far. They had pinned down two Stars of Clan 'Mechs and killed a few as well, Broughton accounting for a _Thor_ and Delaney a _Man O' War, _plus the shared kill with Sheila on the _Fenris_. Sheila had not taken any damage at all, and only Scott's _Wasp_ was in any sort of danger, missing the armor on both arms after she had gotten too close to the _Black Hawk_ Sheila was earnestly trying to gun down. She fired again, but the _Black Hawk_ had enough; it leaped backwards on its jumpjets and got down behind a rock. She quickly glanced backwards; Fraser's _Archer_, its missile bins empty, was heading back at a good clip. "Tango Five," Broughton radioed, "cover Tango Two."

"Roger," Sheila replied, then noticed that Scott had already left. The _Wasp_ was hopping backwards, already far out of range of any of the Clan 'Mechs. "Tango One, Two is already halfway to the rally point. Request permission to stay."

"Permission denied, Five. Cover Two."

Sheila's mouth dropped open. She would be pressed to catch up with Scott, even at full speed. "Tango One, I'm untouched and I have jumpjets! You and Two don't. I can flank them pretty easily—Two's in no danger, she's home free—"

"Dammit to hell, Arla-Vlata!" Broughton shouted, his voice brittle. "Don't argue with me! I gave you a direct order! Obey it or get court-martialled!"

Sheila's temper snapped. Broughton was being unreasonable, and she suspected a few reasons why. "No, sir. I respectfully refuse." Sheila skipped her _Shruiken_ from its firing position and into the open; she triggered both PPCs at a _Thor_ that was closing in on Delaney. Armor flew off the 'Mech as both bolts struck. The Clan 'Mech replied in similar fashion, a PPC shot sizzling armor from her 'Mech as well. Sheila kept her mount upright, jumped away, and found a new firing position. For three long minutes, she did this, as Tango Lance retreated.

* * *

Max knew he was dead. There was no way his little _Hatchetman_ could survive a direct battle with a _Mad Cat_, even if he had an undamaged 'Mech. He fired his autocannon, which flaked some armor from the Clan 'Mech's bulbous torso. Suddenly an explosion of blue fire blasted into the _Mad Cat_'s glasshouse canopy. The 'Mech shook, then fell over with a groan, its pilot dead in the shattered cockpit.

It was Echo Three, who drew back his smoking PPC. It had been a lucky shot, but it had likely saved Max's life. The _Battlemaster_ itself, Max noticed for the first time, had been shot up pretty badly, the 'Mech's skeleton showing through great rents in its armor. "You okay, sir?" its pilot asked.

"Fine. Nice shooting. Let's get out of here."

"Roger that." The _Battlemaster_ took two steps backward and was stopped in its tracks by a Gauss shot. The _Battlemaster_ was one of the toughest 'Mechs in existence, but it simply could not take this sort of constant punishment. It seemed to collapse in on itself and fell supine. The canopy popped open and the MechWarrior scrambled out, not trusting the Clans to shoot him out of the air if he ejected.

He would never make it back to the DropShips, and Max was determined to repay the pilot. The Clansman that had fired the fatal Gauss shot came up; it was a light _Uller_. Max momentarily marveled at the technology of a people that could put such a huge weapon on a small chassis without sacrificing something. It did not last; he stepped forward, staggered the _Uller_ with laserfire, then neatly chopped the Gauss rifle's barrel off with the hatchet. Its magnetic coils exploded and the Clansman shakily pulled back, wanting nothing more to do with the _Hatchetman_. Max backpedaled and gently picked up the _Battlemaster_'s MechWarrior in his 'Mech's hand, cradling an armored fist around him protectively.

Charlie Battalion had arrived and was stopping the Clan advance, but Max found himself cut off with a _Griffin_ and a crippled _Awesome,_ both of which wore Sentinel colors, to his pleasant surprise. It was a kilometer to Charlie's 'Mechs, but Max knew they might as well be on Blackjack's moon. The Jade Falcons were pressing too close.

Apparently, the _Awesome_'s pilot realized it as well. It turned, limped ponderously forward, and blasted a _Fenris_ with all three PPCs. It then stoppped, but kept firing its weapons at any Clan 'Mech around. The Falcons slowed their advance to deal with the assault 'Mech. "Get out of here!" the MechWarrior shouted.

Max hit the radio switch. "Get back here, _Awesome_-jock! Don't play hero!"

"Sir, I've lost a hip actuator. I'll never make it. I'll hold these Clanner bastards as long as I can."

"Dammit—"

"Sir," came a feminine voice, from the _Griffin_. "Let's not blow the chance he's given us. We must move while we still can."

Max gritted his teeth. "All right. Pull back."

As the two medium 'Mechs headed for the rally point, Max slaved a secondary monitor to watch the rear view. The _Awesome_ was literally steaming with spent heat, but the Falcons had gathered around, a single _Gladiator_ stepping forward to engage the _Awesome_. The battle was over in a few seconds; there was no ejection.

As he stepped behind one of Charlie's assault 'Mechs, Max felt moisture on his cheeks, but told himself it was only sweat.


	3. Witness For the Prosecution

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ooh, court drama! No 'Mech action, though. It's like a futuristic version of JAG, except more realistic. _

"_Laws, in theory a model of clearness, become often chaos when applied."_

_--Napoleon Bonaparte_

_Tharkad District Military Court, Triad Base_

_Tharkad, Donegal March, Federated Commonwealth_

_20 July 3050_

"This court will come to order," Kommandant Grissom Miller said as he sat down behind the raised dais reserved for the judge.

On either side of him sat the review board. In the tradition of the AFFC, the defense sat to Miller's left, while the prosecution sat to his right. A pace before the dais was the witness box. Six paces in front of the dais was the chair reserved for the defendant—in this case, Sheila Arla-Vlata.

Her foot tapped an angry rhythm as she fidgeted in the chair. She wondered how she had ever gotten herself into this situation. It only marginally cheered her that this was not per se a formal court martial; because she was a mercenary, the House could only make suggestions as to disciplinary action, unless the defendant had committed a capital crime, in which case the House took over jurisdiction. However, most mercenary units took the suggestions given, since to defy their employer was never a healthy thing to do.

She looked over at her defense. He was a short man by the name of Philip Scott, a Sentinel MechWarrior a few years older than Sheila was. He had been a perfect choice, because both sides of the case could avoid any charges of favoritism; though Philip was from the same unit as Sheila, he was distantly related to Mary Scott, who was involved in the case as a witness for the prosecution. Philip grinned at her and flashed her a thumbs-up, quite confident he could win an acquittal.

The prosecution was an older man, nearly her father's age, and also a distant relative, but this time of Archon Melissa Steiner, the co-ruler of the Federated Commonwealth. Leftenant General Caesar Steiner was the former head of the Nagelring, and since Sheila had graduated with honors from there, no one could claim he was prejudiced. Sheila knew better, though she wondered if the judge or jury did. Caesar Steiner was one of the last of the Steiner social generals, promoted more for familial ties than battlefield skill, and while he had been an able administrator of the Nagelring, he had made it clear to Sheila that he thoroughly disliked mercenaries in general and the Sentinels in particular.

Miller motioned to Steiner. "The prosecution will read the charges."

Steiner nodded and stood. "In accordance with AFFC Regulations 495-02 and 1468-01, the accused, Major Sheila Allegra Arla-Vlata, 4th Company, Alpha Battalion, Sentinels Regimental Combat Team, is charged with dereliction of duty, disobeying a direct order, and conduct to the prejudice of good order and discipline."

"Very well." Miller turned to Scott. "Defense, how do you plead?"

Scott smiled winningly. "Sir, the defendant pleads not guilty to all charges."

"Very well." Miller glanced at Sheila for a moment. "Prosecution, state your case."

"Thank you, sir." Steiner walked into the open space between the dais, the defendant's box, and the audience behind Sheila. The jury was in an adjacent room, unseen by the defendant behind a one-way mirror; in the history of House Steiner, too many juries had been hunted down and killed by escaped convicts, which were more than occasionally MechWarriors. Nonetheless, Steiner's show would be for the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court," Steiner began, "the record will show that on 15 July 3050, on Blackjack, Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth, Tango Lance, 1st Company, 1st Battalion of the Lightning Regiment, was issued a direct order to break contact and retreat to a rally point, prior to retreating offplanet. As an adjunct to this order, Major Arla-Vlata was ordered to cover the retreat of her lancemate, MechWarrior Mary Scott. She disobeyed this order but also did not remain on the firing line. Rather, she moved out onto the flank and fired from there, despite continued orders from her commanding officer, in this case Lieutenant Colonel Steven Broughton. Furthermore, after the Lightning Regiment had departed from Blackjack, Major Arla-Vlata was called to Colonel Broughton's office and asked to explain herself. According to Broughton's testimony, she replied that she was, and I quote, 'not about to follow a damn fool order from some son of a bitch trying to play hero.'

"My colleagues, we are in a desperate war with these Clans, of that there is no doubt. Certainly the raid on Blackjack was something of a debacle, and tempers get heated in any retreat. However, there is no excuse for such wanton disobedience in an army that prides itself on personal honor and loyalty, nor is there room for a MechWarrior who treats her commanding officer in such a fashion. The Sentinels particularly have a sense of honor, and for the scion of the family that has shepherded this remarkable regiment through its history to act in this fashion…" Steiner shook his head sadly. "It is a sad state of affairs that we have come to, my friends. We must send a message that this sort of behavior cannot be tolerated, no matter who the offender is." He turned to the judge. "I have concluded, sir."

"Thank you, General Steiner. Defense, your remarks?"

"Thank you, sir." Scott jauntily walked out into the same space Steiner had occupied before. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said with an amiable smile, deliberately taking the opposite of the sad look Steiner had used, "my colleague the prosecutor has leveled some pretty rough charges on the defendant, then waved the flag in front of your face a bit for good measure. Well and good. However, he did not mention a few things.

"First of all, the order was strange, and Major Arla-Vlata was right in questioning it. Send back an undamaged heavy 'Mech to cover a slightly damaged light 'Mech that was already halfway home? There's something rather weird going on, and we need to find out what. Secondly, the prosecution is trying to infer that shooting from a flanking position is cowardly. Well, combat veterans know that flanking your enemy is a key to winning." This was a slightly oblique shot at Steiner himself, who had never had an actual combat command. "Arla-Vlata was doing her job, and playing it smart. If she had been panicking or playing dumb, we wouldn't be here today, because she would either be a prisoner of the Clans or dead.

"Finally, neither my client nor I are going to dispute that there were some nasty words that flew back and forth in that office. What hasn't been mentioned is that Colonel Broughton said a few things, too. If superiors do not treat their subordinates with respect, one has to wonder what they think of their own superiors. What I will show, ladies and gentlemen, is that Colonel Broughton gave a questionable order under a lot of stress, and not only was Major Arla-Vlata justified in questioning its validity, she was obligated to disobey it for the safety of herself and her comrades. Thank you." He nodded at the judge and returned to his seat.

"Very well," Miller said. "Prosecution, you may call your first witness."

"The prosecution calls as its first witness Lieutenant Colonel Steven Broughton." This came as no surprise to Sheila; Scott had told her that it was likely that Steiner was going to try and pin her down as soon as he could.

Broughton reiterated the same points Steiner had made in his opening statements, that Sheila had disobeyed him not once, but several times, and that she had terribly insulted him in his office on the DropShip. Steiner presented several pieces of evidence, including the battle tapes taken from both Broughton's _Marauder_ and Sheila's _Shruiken_. Those showed that Mary Scott's _Wasp_ had been more badly damaged than Philip Scott had inferred, and that Sheila's flanking movements had brought her perilously close to being cut off by Clan MechWarriors. She knew otherwise; the jumps had been timed to keep her out of the cone of fire of any nearby 'Mechs as much as possible, but Steiner presented it in such a way that it seemed foolhardy. Sheila's face burned with anger, but Steiner merely looked at her as if she was an errant child and returned to his seat.

Miller turned to Scott. "Would the defense like to cross-examine the witness?"

"We would, sir." Scott walked over to stand in front of Broughton. "Colonel, wasn't Major Arla-Vlata's behavior under fire up to this point impeccable?"

"I wouldn't say impeccable."

Scott's eyebrows rose. "Oh? Why not?"

"She engaged in some unnecessary chatter with MechWarrior Scott. Something like a nursery rhyme."

Scott nodded. "'Mary, Mary, quite contrary,' according to the recordings. The recordings also show that Mary Scott first made some disparaging comments about Arla-Vlata's shooting—not terribly intelligent, distracting a lancemate. But her performance under fire was as good or better than any other MechWarrior?"

Broughton paused, looked at Sheila for a moment, then gave a quick nod. "It was better than average, certainly."

"I see. You threatened Miss Arla-Vlata with court martial, did you not?"

"I did."

"Did she ever respectfully request permission to stay in position and help cover the retreat?"

Broughton fidgeted slightly. "Yes, she did."

"Why did you refuse permission?" Scott fired the question like a pistol shot.

"I had already ordered her to cover MechWarrior Scott, who was badly damaged."

Scott nodded. "Yes, she had taken heavy damage to her arms, as I recall."

Broughton guessed where Scott was going with this. "There was some torso damage as well. Not as heavy, but with a light 'Mech, any damage is heavy."

Scott smiled. "I couldn't agree with you more. I pilot a _Valkyrie_. Still, as all of us MechWarriors know, you can operate without your arms." Before Broughton or anyone else could dispute that point, Scott plowed on. "Was MechWarrior Scott's weaponry operational?"

"It was only a medium laser and a SRM-2 launcher—"

"We know the capabilities of the standard WSP-1A, sir," Scott snapped, his voice having only the thinnest veneer of respect. "Was it operational?"

Broughton was now the one with a reddened face. "Yes," he said tightly.

"So she could, within reason, defend herself."

"Not against Clan 'Mechs."

Scott grinned, a hunter who had seen his quarry step squarely into a trap. "Then what was she doing out there in the first place, Colonel?"

Steiner's head came up like a marionette whose strings had been suddenly jerked. "Objection!" he shouted. "The defense is badgering the witness. There is no reason to call this into question; light 'Mechs are deployed against Clan 'Mechs every day."

"I withdraw the question," Scott replied quickly. He paused for a moment, then continued. "Did you not have another 'Mech at your disposal, sir, that could have covered Scott's _Wasp_? I refer to MechWarrior Fraser's _Archer_."

Broughton smiled. "Yes, I had thought of that, but for two reasons. One, Fraser was out of LRM ammunition, which is the primary weaponry of the ARC-2R." He obviously enjoyed sticking Scott with the lawyer's own knife. "Two, the top speed of the _Archer_ is 65 kph, while the _Wasp's_ is 95 kph, and the _Wasp_ has jumpjets. It would have been foolish of me to order Fraser to cover Scott."

"I can understand that," Scott said, "but for two reasons. One, Fraser was half a kilometer closer than Arla-Vlata was. Two, Arla-Vlata's _Shruiken_ has a top speed of 82 kph, still well short of the _Wasp's_." Scott went back to his bench for a moment to check his notes; it was solely to let his words hang in the air for a moment, and make Broughton stew a little. Then he returned to his former place in front of the witness stand. "Now, Colonel, I'm sorry to ask this. Have you ever expressed affection for MechWarrior Scott?"

"I don't understand," Broughton replied, though it was evident that he understood perfectly well.

"Let me put it another way. Were you carrying on some sort of relationship with MechWarrior Scott at the time of the Blackjack operation?"

Steiner half-rose from his seat, then sat down. Broughton glanced back at him helplessly. "Yes, we were a little closer than I was to, say, Major Arla-Vlata."

"Close? How close? Friends? Good friends? Intimate?"

Steiner came out of his seat this time. "Objection! The witness' personal life has no relevance here!"

Scott turned to Miller. "Sir, I will show relevance. I don't like to intrude on anyone's personal life, but this has bearing on the case."

Miller rubbed his chin in thought. "Overruled. Continue, defense."

"Thank you. Colonel Broughton, could you state the nature of your relationship to MechWarrior Scott? I remind you that you're under oath."

Broughton sighed. "We were…very close. Intimate."

"Ah." Scott looked over towards the jury and nodded, half to them, half to himself. "I see. Sorry to pry, sir." He looked to Miller. "No further questions."

Sheila felt like cheering. With Broughton all but admitting that he and Mary Scott were lovers, that brought an entirely new dimension to the case. Instead of Sheila being ordered to defend a damaged lancemate and the weakest member of the lance, Sheila had been ordered to defend the commander's lover. It was straight favoritism of the worst kind; Sheila was glad for her own honor that she had been right to question the order.

Mary Scott took the stand next. She was not of much help to Steiner; she disliked Sheila, but the Sentinels were a family. They did not let outsiders know of their problems. She also had a tendency to insist that she was perfectly fine without help, especially Sheila's. Mary did such a wonderful job in undermining Steiner's case that he eventually gave up. Philip Scott only asked his cousin a single question—was she "intimate" with Colonel Broughton—and she reluctantly confirmed that she had been, though she did remark that the relationship had since come to an end. To the relief of all involved, Mary Scott was dismissed from the stand.

Shawn Fraser was of a little more help to the prosecution. He freely admitted that it was his first battle, and he was happy to have lived through the experience. That a green MechWarrior piloting a heavy 'Mech would find it difficult to cover a _Wasp_ was obvious, and Fraser clearly thought it beyond him. He insisted that he bore Sheila no malice whatsoever. Scott declined to cross-examine; Fraser was of no help to him. Sheila understood why: the centerpoint of the case was whether or not Broughton was right in ordering Sheila to cover Mary Scott, not whether or not he should have asked Fraser to.

Steiner called in a tech to prove that Sheila had been heard screaming at Broughton in his office, though the tech also remarked that Broughton had done his fair share of screaming as well. Steiner probed at who started the screaming first, and the tech responded it had been Sheila. Sheila's cheeks burned at the thought, but she admitted to herself that the tech was only telling the truth: she had gone into Broughton's office with battle flags streaming. His insistence on court-martialling her was what pushed her beyond the breaking point.

* * *

The court took a short lunch break. Sheila sat with Philip in the small cafeteria in the court complex. "So how do you think it's going?" she asked him.

"We're doing okay," Scott replied between bites. "Not as good as I'd like, though."

Sheila's heart sank. "What's that mean?"

"Well, I think we've established reasonable doubt that Broughton didn't just give you the order to cover Mary because he was afraid of losing a _Wasp_. He did it because he didn't want to lose his bedwarmer. Nobody's gonna like that; Miller's eyebrows damn near went over the top of his head on that one. And my cousin was so great a help to us with her bragging that the court probably thinks I bribed her."

"So what's the problem?"

"Fraser didn't help us, but didn't really hurt us either. I think Steiner's getting desperate, and that scares me. I think he may take one last stab at nailing you for disobeying a direct order, which is bad news. But he's lost a lot of ground. Still, the whole yelling and screaming at Broughton might be enough to hang a conduct unbecoming on you, Sheila…that's why the tech was brought in."

Sheila rolled her eyes. "Great. Nice to know we can stop the war for all this bullshit. He was screaming just as loud at me."

"Yeah, but you're a line doggie like me. Broughton's a full Colonel. His dad has got major connections in the Isle of Skye. I wish I knew who was on the jury. If it's got some mercs on it, you're going to walk away from this laughing, because they probably would think what you did was cool. However, if we get some of those lardass Steiner social generals in there, they may decide to nail you to the wall as an example of why mercs should never disobey House orders, no matter how dumb they are."

Sheila finished her soda. "Comforting thought. Any luck getting Delaney?"

"Nope. The Steel Corps is already gone to Newtown Square to shore up the flank. I don't think he can help us much, anyway. All he can really do is say what a jackass Broughton was being."

Sheila nodded. "You going to put me on the stand?"

Scott aped the nod. "Yeah. I don't have much choice. I don't have any other witnesses."

"I'll work that jackass angle."

"Just don't go too far."


	4. Take the Stand

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yet more courtroom stuff. No, I'm not trying to spin this out. Fact is, this chapter's more about character building than anything else; don't worry, the 'Mech action returns soon enough._

The court went back into session after lunch. Scott, as promised, called Sheila as his first and only witness. She took the stand with more confidence than she felt, but the idea was to make the court think she was absolutely certain she had done the right thing. She hoped it would not backfire. She wore the Commonwealth Star at her throat, which only helped her image.

Scott stood in front of her. "Major, why did you disobey Colonel Broughton's order?"

"I believed that it was not given in the correct context or frame of mind."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

"I believed then, as I do now, that Colonel Broughton was overly concerned about MechWarrior Mary Scott. Their relationship was no great secret."

"Was that the only reason?"

"No. I believe that Broughton may have made the decision because it was his first real battle against the Clans. He had not really fought them before on Barcelona; not toe to toe. He wasn't panicking, but I don't think he quite realized just what the Clans bring to the field."

"Such as?"  
"Well, everyone always comments, correctly, on the Clans' superior weaponry. They shoot further and hit harder. The position we held took that into account. However, in Colonel Broughton's choice for the 'Mechs to cover the retreat, I think he didn't quite realize just how fast the Clans are as well. His _Marauder_ has jumpjets, so its slower speed isn't really a problem, but Andrew Delaney's _Banshee_ is slow. Naturally, Fraser's 'Mech was out of LRM ammunition, and Scott's _Wasp_ is no one's choice to cover a retreat. My _Shruiken_ is, however—it's as fast as any other Clan heavy 'Mech, and more mobile since it has jumpjets. It also wasn't damaged. I saw in the Clans' movements, and through my own painful experience, that chances were good Broughton and Delaney would get overrun, whereas Fraser and Scott most likely would not. So I decided to do something about it."

"Was there an argument onboard the DropShip?" Scott asked.

"Yes. Both of us were pretty tired and upset over having to retreat, so we got into it more than we would have normally, I think. I don't deny that I said a few nasty things, but we both did. Had we met at some point during the trip back from Blackjack, I would have apologized to him, and most likely he would do the same for me." _Though I kinda doubt it,_ Sheila added to herself. Broughton was not the type of person to admit he was wrong, no matter how wrong he was. Still, this was part of her plan with Philip: the idea was to show that Sheila bore no grudge against Broughton, and was more than willing to admit her own guilt in the argument, as long as Broughton was willing to do so. For him not to inferred that he thought little of his subordinates, which did not help his case much. As Philip had said, better the noble, contrite heroine than the unrepentant bitch.

"No further questions," Philip said.

"Prosecution, do you wish to cross-examine?" Miller asked Steiner.

"We do." Steiner moved down and leaned against the witness box, smiling at Sheila in the way of close friends. She steeled herself; Steiner was going to hit her hard. "Major Arla-Vlata, do you like Colonel Steven Broughton?"

She saw Philip take a deep breath, ready to voice an objection, but she gave a minute shake of the head in his direction. To Steiner, she said, "I really don't have any opinion on it. He was my commanding officer; it's irrevelant if I like him or not. I'd obey his orders."

Steiner smiled wolfishly. "Apparently you didn't, Major, otherwise we wouldn't be here."

Sheila was ready for that one. "Under any other circumstances, I would have obeyed his order. I obeyed his orders up to that point. I have a lot of respect for Broughton. He's a good lance commander—his battle performance showed that—and a good man. He just made a mistake that I felt was going to get him and Delaney killed needlessly, so I respectfully refused his order."

"You did all this in the space of a second."

Sheila nodded. "Yes, sir. That's what the Nagelring taught us to do."

Steiner's smile, to Sheila's surprise, did not falter. It widened almost imperceptibly, and he nodded a brief salute to her; Sheila had turned his question against him. To say otherwise was to besmirch the Nagelring, and by extension, himself. Steiner tried a new tack. "I think we have established that Colonel Broughton and MechWarrior Mary Scott were having a relationship. What do you think about that, Major?"

"Objection!" Philip thundered. "Irrevelancy."  
"I will show relevancy," Steiner cooly answered.

"Overruled," Miller pronounced. "Answer the question, Major Arla-Vlata."

"Yes, sir. I didn't care. Such romances are common, especially during wartime. What people do behind closed doors in that respect is none of my business, as long as it doesn't affect their conduct in a fight. As I said before, though, I think there were other reasons." Sheila regretted the words almost as soon as she said them.

"Explain," Steiner snapped.

"Well, Colonel Broughton showed himself to be brave. The sight of a forest camouflaged _Marauder_ holding its ground against the slavering Clan horde, its emblem of a Steiner fist clutching the Davion sword emblazoned on its side, shining in righteous fury—"

"Leave the theatrics for Misha Auburn," Steiner snarled, and Sheila wondered if she hadn't gone too far. "Get to the point, Major."

"That _is_ the point, sir. It's a sight to get your blood pumping. Great for a recruitment poster…but also great for getting killed. Holovids are the only place that works. I think Colonel Broughton wanted to be seen as a hero."

"But it did work, Major. The Clans were held off."

"In a way. But it shouldn't have."

"And why not?" Steiner spread his arms to encompass the entire chamber. "Please, Major. With all your vast military experience, educate our feeble minds."

"Objection!" Philip growled. "The defendant is being badgered. Defense would like to respectfully point out to the court that the defendant has been a lot closer to the Clans than the prosecution."

"Sustained," Miller said. "Watch your tone, General."

Steiner chuckled. "I apologize. Perhaps I'm getting a little carried away myself, Major."

"Yes, sir," Sheila replied sweetly, aware her answer could be taken more than one way. "Sir, I'm not going to claim that I saved Colonel Broughton's life by disobeying his order. I may have, but there's no way to prove it. But I certainly contributed to the retreat by using harassing fire from the Clan flank. Colonel Broughton and Colonel Delaney also shot well, but, to be honest, the Clans weren't pressing us very hard. Not like the Falcons did to the Sentinels on Persistence, and damn sure not like the Wolves came after us on Rasalhague. But I didn't know that they wouldn't rush us. One or two 'Mechs would have been plowed under by a concerted attack."

"But the _Awesome_ held off a Clan attack," Steiner argued.

"Yes, sir. The pilot also died. I didn't know about that situation, but I did know about Terran history. The name 'Custer' comes to mind. I didn't want to see Broughton or Delaney die."

Steiner nodded. "Hmm." He tried another tack. "Why did you think MechWarrior Mary Scott was in no danger?"

"She was still fully mobile. And she was halfway to the rally point."

"Do you like MechWarrior Scott?"

"Objection!" Scott exclaimed. "The defendant has already established that personal feelings have no bearing on her decision."

"To disobey Broughton's orders, yes," Steiner told Miller. "But not whether her own personal feelings had any bearing on leaving MechWarrior Scott."

"Overruled," Miller said. "Proceed, General."

"No, sir, I don't like Mary Scott all that much. I can't go into reasons, because then I would be testifying against myself, something expressly forbidden in my rights as a citizen of the Federated Commonwealth."

"I know the laws, young lady," Steiner said evenly. "Did you dislike her enough to leave her?"

"No, sir. I would not do that to any MechWarrior, much less a fellow member of the Sentinels. If I held a grudge bad enough to leave MechWarrior Scott to the mercy of the Clans, I would simply blow her head off at some point during the battle and claim the Clans did it. I don't hold any grudge that bad against anyone, and I hope I never do."

"I see. Commendable. No further questions, your Honor." Steiner nodded to Sheila, and walked back to his seat.

"The defendant is excused from the stand."


	5. The Verdict

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hopefully a twist to the story here...part of my ongoing efforts to ensure that Sheila isn't a Mary Sue._

Philip Scott and Caesar Steiner made closing statements. Steiner insisted that, whatever Sheila's reasons, the order was a legitimate one and she had no right to override her commanding officer, and certainly no right to argue with him. Scott insisted that the argument had no bearing on the case, and was just an altercation between two tired and defeated MechWarriors. As to Broughton's order, it was one given with poor judgement, nepotism, and a desire to grab glory.

When the closing statements were done, the case was sent to the unseen court. The next twenty minutes were the longest in Sheila's life. Her mind constantly cycled over the possible outcomes. Jail time was out of the question, but dismissal from AFFC service was not. She could stay with the Sentinels, but that would affect the regiment's standing with the House, and one warrior was not worth that. She could go elsewhere, but a disgraced, Dispossessed MechWarrior was not worth much. Lesser possibilities were demotion, temporary Dispossession, or simply a warning to sin no more.

Finally, the foreman of the jury, the only one she would be allowed to see, walked into the courtroom, and proceeded forward to stand between the judge's dais and Sheila's seat. He wore the uniform of the 24th Lyran Guards, one of Tharkad's garrison units. Nor was he a rear-echelon type; Sheila recognized the Order of the Tamar Tigers and the Honor of Skye medals on his uniform. This MechWarrior had been in combat more than a few times.

"Have you reached a verdict?" Miller asked.

"We have," the foreman answered. He glanced down at the sheet of paper in his hand, then back to the judge. "On the charge of dereliction of duty, we, the jury, find Major Sheila Allegra Arla-Vlata…not guilty." Scott grinned at her. "On the charge of disobedience of a direct order, under the circumstances, we, the jury, have found that the order was questionable; as such, on this charge, Major Arla-Vlata is likewise…not guilty."

Sheila's heart leapt with joy, but she realized there was still one charge left. "On the charge of conduct to the prejudice of good order and discipline, we find the defendant…guilty as charged."

Sheila's mouth fell open, and Scott's grin faded. That charge was a lesser one than the other two, which could get her dismissed from service, but conduct to the prejudice was bad enough. It could get her Dispossessed. She felt her eyes filling up. _No, no,_ her mind stammered, _I can't. I can't leave my friends, not now!_

"However," the foreman continued, looking at Sheila, "we have decided that there were mitigating circumstances, and that Sheila Arla-Vlata has shown herself to be more than capable in the role of MechWarrior. With that in mind, we recommend that she be demoted to the rank of common MechWarrior, and stripped of company and lance command."

Miller thanked the foreman and dismissed him. "Major Arla-Vlata," he intoned solemnly, "this court will recommend to your commanding officer that you be demoted to the rank of MechWarrior. You will forfeit all pay and privledges accorded you by your former rank, and be assigned to the lance of your commander's choosing. In the future, it is my advice that you consider your actions more carefully, and keep a rein on your temper." He slammed down the gavel. "These proceedings are closed." As Miller rose, so did everyone else, standing at attention until he left the room. Sheila glanced at Colonel Broughton, who was heading out, but he did not meet her eyes. As Broughton left, he walked past Sheila's father, Calla Bighorn-Vlata, who nonchalantly bumped him roughly with his shoulder. Broughton stumbled, but said nothing and continued out.

Philip walked up to Sheila. "Sheila, I'm so sorry. I really thought we had those charges beat."

"It's all right," Sheila said quietly. "You got me acquitted on the other two charges. Being a MechWarrior won't be so bad." It was a lie. She felt tears on her face. She had dishonored herself, her parents, and her regiment. No matter how long she was a MechWarrior, everyone would remember that she had been demoted once; it was a permanent blight on her career. She looked hesitantly at her father. "Are you mad?"

"At the AFFC kangaroo court? Yes." Calla was visibly fuming. "The bastards haven't been on the line in twenty years, if that. They don't understand that they would have done the same thing, and knock the shit out of Broughton in the process, if they had some balls." He looked to Sheila. "At you? Not really. Broughton was thinking with his dick and not with his brains. Trying to impress his fricking girl, who dumped his dumb ass anyway. As for cussing him out, hell, I would have done the same thing. He got a bunch of my people killed for nothing. You're my daughter, Sheila, and unfortunately you inherited my hairtrigger temper. _Try_ to rein it in before you take a swing at Hanse Davion or something."

"Oh, I don't know," said a voice, "it might be interesting to see my dad in action." Sheila looked behind her father to see Victor Steiner-Davion. She came to attention, but Victor waved it off. "I just heard about the verdict," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm a disappointment. At least they didn't Dispossess me."

"You're not a disappointment," Victor insisted. "You made a mistake. That happens. You're staying in the Junior Officer Strategy Group. You may have a bad temper, but your fighting ability and mind are sound enough…well, by our standards, anyway."

"Thanks," Sheila groused.

* * *

_The Wandering MechWarrior Lounge, Sentinel Base Grunwald_

_Grunwald, Donegal March, Federated Commonwealth_

_4 August 3050_

"And then—get this, Tooriu—and then the Capellan MechWarrior says, 'See, if I carry the 'Mech canopy with me, I can slide it back when it gets hot!'"

Sheila's timing was perfect. Tooriu Kku was lifting a mug of Timbiqui dark beer to his mouth, and had just begun to take a huge sip. He choked, laughed, and spit foam a good ten feet onto the bar. "Bitch," he laughed at her, "you planned that."

"Sure did," Sheila admitted. She jerked a thumb at Max Canis-Vlata, who sat next to her. "Don't blame me. He did the same thing to me a few weeks ago when I was eating."

Max smiled briefly, still idly stirring his cola. "Yeah. That was pretty funny." His smile faded as quickly as it had come.

Tooriu pointed a massive finger at Max. "What's eating you?"

"Nothing," Max snapped, and sipped at his drink.

"It's Blackjack, isn't it?" Sheila said quietly.

"I said it was nothing, dammit."

Sheila, surprised at Max's sudden display of anger, turned away. The light moment had faded. Sheila knew that she was herself trying to forget the last few weeks. First there had been the disaster at Blackjack, then the court-martial, and finally the return to Grunwald, which had happened that morning. She had to pull off her rank tabs and hand them to her successor, Michael Whelan, who protested that he was not worthy or ready to take over 4th Company, Alpha Battalion, from her. She disagreed; Whelan was quiet, but was a consummate professional, and no one disliked him. He had a Commonwealth Star as well, the first awarded during the Clan War, when he and his _Stalker_ had held off a Clan Star at Persistence. Normally, such a feat was not quite worthy of such a high honor, but heroes were in such short supply that they were grasped at like straws. Sheila was sure Whelan would do fine. What hurt the most was the stares she received, and the reaction: no one hated her for what had happened—indeed, most thought she had been unfairly slapped down, and somehow that was worse. She felt like a failure, and had gone back to her room and wept bitterly, as she had done for most of the transit from Tharkad. Only when Tooriu had bodily dragged her from her room and told some of his funniest jokes did Sheila finally begin to feel better. She decided that, for tonight, she would first get seriously drunk and then make a new start tomorrow. She was being assigned to her father's headquarters lance, so it was not a terrible fate.

The Wandering MechWarrior was the Sentinels' favorite place to be when they were home on Grunwald, which they had not been for almost six months. It was fairly large, with a crescent-shaped mahogany bar, a dance floor, and a few tables set around the main floor. The dance floor was fairly empty, though a few couples gyrated to deafening rock music provided by Stykkisa Topmount, the Sentinels' resident deejay and a lance commander in Alpha's 1st Company. The sound system was a monolith that cost nearly as much as some light 'Mechs. _The only problem with Stykkisa, _Sheila mused, _is that she gets in a rut._ They were listening to a techno remix of Beethoven's "Fur Elise" for the third time.

The bar was fairly crowded, though most of the people were young MechWarriors like Sheila and her friends. The "old heads" were at home, spending time with their families. Too many faces were not present, having been left behind in hastily dug graves on Persistence, Rasalhague, and Blackjack.

As if bidden, Tooriu asked, "So what the hey happened on Blackjack, anyway? I wasn't selected to go."

"It was a cluster-screw," Sheila said, flipping her ponytail out of the way as she took a drink of her tequila. "Everything that could go wrong did. The Clans suckered us in, then were all over us. My sector was all right—despite everything that happened—but Max's got hit hard. They flanked Bravo Battalion, then rolled them up. Max's Kommandant—what was his name, Max?"

"McGuire," Max supplied emotionlessly.

"McGuire's _Atlas_ got its head taken off by a PPC." Sheila briefly related Max's story. He had told it to her on the way back from Blackjack.

"Damn, Sam." Tooriu ambled over and slapped Max's shoulder. "It's a wonder anyone got out. Sounds like you did good, though, fella, all things considered."

"No, I didn't," Max sighed. "I lost. I'd be dead if hadn't been for that _Battlemaster_ jock, Jeff Johnson."

"And you saved his life," Sheila said. "_He'd_ be dead if you hadn't grabbed him. From what I understand, he's promised to marry you to his sister or something." It was not really true, but Sheila wanted to get a chuckle from Max. Her heart sank just looking at her friend, sunk in depression.

"That _Awesome_ keeps repeating itself over and over. I just keep seeing him die." Max choked back a sob, and shook his head angrily.

"You saved Johnson and some of the others," Sheila protested. "They gave you the Order of Steiner-Davion and you deserved it. At least you didn't fuck up like I did."

Max was not listening. "I should have stepped back our fire like they taught us at the Nagelring. Maybe then the _Awesome_ could have kept up with us—"

"Excuse me, Lance Commander." The owner of the voice turned her bar stool around to face Max; he had been sitting next to her. She was an older woman, almost the age of Max and Sheila's parents, though it was obvious she had been a great beauty in her youth. "My name is Kaatha." Sheila thought the name sounded somewhat familiar, then placed it: Kaatha was in Alpha's 3rd Company, and had been selected for the Lightning Regiment. She was from one of a few planets in the Inner Sphere that had done away with surnames as part of a social experiment in the days of the Star League. "Do not blame yourself, Maximillian," she was saying. "Renni would not have made it back whatever you did. His _Awesome_ was too badly shot up. The Clans would have killed him, or worse, captured him and made him a slave. At least his death counted for something this way."

Max came to his feet, his eyes flashing. "How can you say that, Kaatha? You weren't there! You don't know!"

"I _do_ know, Maximillian. I _was _there. I piloted the _Griffin_. And I can say that because Renni was my _husband_."

Max's mouth dropped open in shock. Sheila remembered; Kaatha and Renni were old hands, having joined the regiment in 3039, and had a daughter MechWarrior somewhere in Beta Battalion. "Oh, no," Max said. "I'm…I'm so sorry, Kaatha."

"Don't apologize to me, Maximillian. It was not your fault. The Clans killed him, not you. But knowing that he died to save others makes it easier for myself and my daughter Felisanna to bear. You saved us from further harm. I've piloted 'Mechs for twenty years, and I know what I saw—and what I see now. You have potential, Maximillian. Don't throw it away in misplaced guilt. Renni would not want that."

Max had no idea what to say. "Renni…was a brave man," was what came out of his mouth.

"Apparently Sheila didn't think so!"

Sheila whirled around to spot whoever had shouted. It was an easy task, for Mary Scott came out of the crowd. She was dressed in a jumpsuit that was zipped down to her navel. She weaved a little and whiskey sloshed out of a glass. "Yeh," she said, "that's right, Sentinels. Sheila got out of being court-martialled by hanging poor ol' Renni to save herself."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Sheila growled. Conversation at the bar noticeably dipped.

"You know. You said what Renni did was stupid."

"I didn't say that. I said what _Broughton_ did was stupid, trying to play hero. He had an undamaged 'Mech and plenty of room to manuever, and the Falcons weren't pressing us. Renni was shot to hell and didn't have a chance, so he died to save others. He wasn't after a medal."

Mary blinked. "So what? You were willing to leave my ass in the lurch!" Now no one spoke, the sound system ignored. All eyes were on the two women.

"Oh, bullshit, Mary! You were halfway to the rally point. I couldn't have kept up with you and you know it. Broughton just gave that order because he was afraid his bedwarmer might buy the farm."

"I coulda died!" Mary shouted drunkenly at Sheila, spilling more of her drink.

"Yeah, well, me too! I was a lot closer to the frigging Clanners than you were!"

"I don' care 'bout you," Mary slurred. "You're just overrated, Sheila. You got the Star because you're the CO's daughter. You could hide behind your rank before, but now…now we're equal! I'm gonna kick yer ass, Sheila."

"Mary, you're drunk," someone in the crowd said, a bit unnecessarily.

"Yep!" Mary exclaimed happily. "But I can take 'er."

"Fair fight?" Sheila asked. "Nobody presses charges?"

"Yeah, 'guess you are pretty scared of getting court-martialled again. Nah, I won't press charges so long as you don't. You oughta just drag yer carcass out of here afterwards, though." Mary set down her drink on a table. "See, you're nothin', Sheila! You don't matter a shit to any of us! We think you're an overrated, backstabbin', no good—"

Mary never completed the sentence, because Sheila rocketed from her seat, her left fist blurring forward. It smashed into Mary's nose, sending the MechWarrior crashing back into the table. Mary bounced off and hit the floor, blood trickling from her nose. She did not get back up.

Sheila's teeth were bared, her eyes aglow with rage. "Get up, Mary. C'mon! You talk big, let's see you back it up, bitch!" Max grabbed Sheila's shoulder before she could inflict any more damage.

Another MechWarrior bent over her. "Frackencrack, Sheila! I think you broke her nose!"

Tooriu shooed the man away and turned Mary over. He gingerly felt her nose, then shook his head. "Nah. Maybe some cartilage broken, and maybe a concussion. Out cold, though."

"Critical hit, Sheila!" someone yelled. "Yeah, that's putting her in her place!" someone else said, and to Sheila's surprise, people clapped and cheered her. She said nothing, just turned and walked back to her bar stool. Kaatha was actually smiling. "Well struck, Sheila. I daresay she won't shoot off her mouth like that again."

"I feel terrible," Sheila said, though that was only half true. One part of her was not only glad she had shut Mary Scott's mouth, but wished the fight had lasted longer. "I just lost it. _Again._"

"Hell, who wouldn't? Don't worry about it, kiddo. It was a fair fight. Everybody saw it. Mary deserved it. We know damn good and well you don't leave people to die, Sheila. You didn't leave Mimi." Tooriu had Mary thrown over one shoulder like a fire hose. "I'll take her over to sick bay to make sure nothing's permanently broken." Tooriu slapped Mary's behind and walked towards the door, whistling.

The crowd returned to dancing and drinks, a few offering to buy for Sheila. Apparently Mary had not made herself exactly popular that night. Max, however, saw that Sheila had begun to shake, the adrenalin of the fight still running through her system, and she was still angry. "Sheila, let's take a walk. I need to clear my head."

Sheila nodded. "Let's see how the repairs to our 'Mechs are coming." Kaatha insisted on paying for the drinks, and sent them along with a wistful look that did not raise Sheila's spirits any.


	6. Let the Rain Fall

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: And...we finally get to the romance of the story. This is the last chapter of this story arc...next comes Twycross._

Sheila and Max walked across a manicured lawn towards the 'Mech bays. The upper slopes of Mount Cyanide, the strangely-named peak that towered over Sentinel Base Grunwald, were hidden in cloud, and the entire sky was a leaden gray, promising rain later. On Grunwald, the old wag went, it was either raining or getting ready to. Neither Max nor Sheila said anything: Max was unsure of what, exactly, he should say, and Sheila was trying to fight down the urge to obliterate something.

Without warning, the skies opened and the rain came down. Grunwald was known for sudden summer showers, which were pleasant for the first hour or so. Some could last for weeks; Sheila could remember a time when it had rained literally forty days and nights. "My place," Max said over the deluge, and they ran for the small house where the Canis-Vlatas lived. Max's parents were out, and they dived into the house. Both were already soaked to the skin.

"Well, I needed to cool off, but that's _not_ what I had in mind," Sheila laughed. "Any place we can dry out at?"

"Head on up to my room. There's some cold sodas in the fridge. I'll grab us some towels."

Sheila walked up the stairs to Max's small apartment, set above his parents' house. He had his own bathroom and a small common area off the entrance to his bedroom, so he was more or less self-sufficient. Sheila knew he was glad of it. Max's parents, Mira and Todd, had been married at the same ceremony as her parents had been, but their marriage had been considerably more rocky. Todd was always good for tossing a few back with his company, and then his battalion, but the alcoholism that had stalked Sheila's family for centuries came back with a vengeance on Todd. The Canis-Vlatas had argued viciously for years, staying together only for appearances and obstensibly for the "good" of Max, their only child. Sheila knew better: Max had been quite happy to attend the Nagelring and get away from the constant feud. Lately, Sheila had noticed that the Canis-Vlatas had been much kinder to each other, and Todd had not taken a drink since Persistence. It was possible that, in a world that was coming apart, two people had begun to come together again.

She reached into the fridge and set out two sodas, taking one for herself. Max came in as she plopped unceremoniously into an easy chair. "Nice place, Max. It's been redone since we went off to the Nagelring."

Max nodded. Imitation wood paneling covered the walls, except for a large window that overlooked Stykkis Field, the base's DropPort. Awards dotted one side of the room, mainly won at Grunwald's planetary fairs, for plastic model building, creative writing, and artistry, Max's true loves. He had become a MechWarrior more for the money and because, as the son of two MechWarriors, it was expected. It would probably never be the career that it was for Sheila. She got up and looked at a magnificent portrait of two Sentinel _Stingray_ fighters making a low pass over some forgotten battlefield. She then studied a wall map of the Inner Sphere; Max had filled in planets they knew had fallen to the Clans. There were a lot of them. _We're losing this war,_ Sheila thought. She wondered what would happen if the Clans struck Grunwald. The worry and fear was like an icy hand around her heart.

"Hungry?" Max's voice intruded on her thoughts. "I can nuke some eats."

"No…I'm fine." She took a drink of her cola. The buzz from the alcohol was fading, and she was glad, in a way, that the fight with Mary Scott had kept her from getting drunk. It was all too easy to see that as a form of escape. She looked over one of Max's models, a very well done kit of a _Battlemaster_, resplendent in olive drab camouflage, bright Sentinel sigils, and grayish armor plate. He had even added the whip antennae of a command 'Mech, and the mud caked on the legs. "'BLR-1G _Battlemaster_,'" she read from the brass plaque below the 'Mech. "'Major Mira Canis-Vlata, Command Lance, Sentinels 2nd Company, Battle of Shensi, August 3028.' Wow. Nice job. You've even got the battle damage."

"One of my better ones," he said softly.

Sheila turned around at his tone of voice, then remembered. "Oh, frak. I'm sorry, Max, I forgot." Max had been piloting this very 'Mech on Persistence, but a Clan _Gladiator_ had shot it out from under him. It had not been his fault, the loss of such a prized 'Mech with a long and distinguished battle history, but Max felt it was.

"It's all right." He looked out the window, and sat down on his bed. "You know, Sheila, you're lucky. You got the Commonwealth Star fair and square. No one's going to give you crap for going back for a friend, no matter what happened to her. They gave me the Order of Steiner-Davion for Blackjack, and I wonder if I really deserve it."

"Max," Sheila said, exasperated, "you got the Order for doing pretty much the same thing I did, except you had brains enough to use your 'Mech to protect the pilot."

"And I didn't go one on one with two Elementals."

"Well, there's a fine line between bravery and idiocy. Get it right, you're a hero. Blow it, and you're a dork."

"Your medal wasn't paid for in blood."

"Oh, Max, please. Knock it off. You managed to get Kaatha and that _Battlemaster_ jock out of there. That's got to be worth something."

Max went on as if Sheila had not said anything. "I could've done something more. I should have stayed and fought too. But I ran."

Sheila took another drink, feeling her temper building again. "Max, you have got survivor's guilt, really bad. You need to talk to someone—a priest, your mom, somebody. I'm obviously not getting through."

He looked up at her. "All right. What would you have done?"

Sheila shrugged. "The same thing you did."

"You would have found another way." Max looked away, morosely. "When I was growing up, I used to hear a lot about you, Sheila. You always seemed to be a brain, kinda popular, and athletic, too. I looked up to you like crazy. Hell, I still do."

Sheila sat down on the bed as well. "I don't know why, Max. I screw up a lot. And someone's been feeding you stories. I'm fairly smart, and I'm in pretty good shape. I could've made the Nagelring gymnastics team if it hadn't been for politics and the fact that my boobs got too big." She said the last to get a laugh out of Max—Sheila's breasts were not that large—but it failed. "Geez. Everybody hated me in school, Max, because of who I was. Mercenaries aren't real popular, you know. Even on Grunwald, people used to go out of their way to ruin my life. I was always teased for being too tall and too clumsy. I always seemed to be a few steps behind everyone else. I dreaded taking showers because the other girls would tease me because I wasn't developing much."

Max swallowed audibly. "Um…I think you've caught up."

Sheila sniffed a laugh. "Yeah, when I hit sixteen. The Nagelring was hell on earth for me, Max! The girls really went after me because I wasn't interested in bootlegging beer into the dorms, or getting laid with the next available jock who talked the loudest, or just because I wasn't from one of the nicer families in the Lyran Commonwealth. Gad, I wanted to go to NAMA so bad because I heard no one cared there!"

"Nagelring wasn't pleasant for me, either. People used to laugh at me because I was a MechWarrior who wore glasses. Like there haven't been MechWarriors who wore glasses thicker than mine!" He paused. "And at least you had a home to go back to, Sheila," he said bitterly.

"Things will get better, Max. Really," Sheila said reassuringly.

"Dammit, Sheila, _how?_ We're losing the fucking war; my parents _maybe_ have stopped ripping each other's head off, but for how long; I'm being put into commands that I don't want and watching people I don't even know get killed to save me! Who am I? I'm nobody! It's not like anyone cares! Kaatha's husband had shit to _live_ for, man! Why was it him and not me?"

Sheila put down the soda can very carefully on the carpeted floor, then slapped Max hard across the face. The force of the unexpected blow sent him reeling across the bed, and he stared at Sheila in shock. "_Stop it!"_ she yelled. "God, Max, don't _ever_ say you're nobody or that nobody cares! Your mom and dad may hate each other, but they love you, at least! My folks think you're the greatest!" Unable to stop it anymore, she began speaking, barely taking a breath. "I know we're losing the war. I just look at the map, Max. I see that the Jade Falcons are heading right for us. I wonder if we can ever stop them, how many more are going to die, and if I can do anything but sit here! But I _have to do something, _Max! I _can't_ just sit here and moan about how this all sucks."

She got up and began pacing. "When we were growing up, I used to hear a lot about you, too. How smart _you_ were. How many prizes you got in school for being a genius. I wondered how I'd ever measure up. But you know what? I used to look forward every day to getting your letters, because I knew, even when Mom was gone doing her thing or Dad was riding me because he wants me to get the regiment someday, that there was someone in this effed up Inner Sphere that cared about me. 'Cause you know, sometimes I went to school and it felt like everyone, even the teachers, hated me, because I was a mercenary's daughter. But even though you were on Shensi, far away, you cared enough to acknowledge I existed, which was a hell of a lot more than most other people did. You did the same thing at the 'Ring. Sure, I had Mimi there, but Mimi wanted to raise hell and chase boys, and I just wanted to stay home and cool off. And you were _always_ there, Max. You always hung out with me even when it was inconvienent for you to do so. You always listened to me.

"So now you listen to me, Max. Everyone always wants to know why it was the other guy and not them. I don't know. I can't answer it, you can't, no one can, except God, and He's not saying. And maybe, Max, you keep getting put into lance commands because you're good at it. And finally, Max, _I care._ I need you. All we've got left in this whole, sorry mess is each other."

There was silence in the room for a full ten seconds. Sheila blinked as if awakening from a dream; the words had always been there, but she had never been able to say them. Max slowly got up from the bed, walked over to her, and hugged her. She clasped him to her, both awash in emotions neither could fully express or even understand, and they cried. They had been thrust into a war that was not supposed to happen, fighting an enemy that was not supposed to exist. They were young, scared to die, and had no one else to turn to anymore.

Which, most likely, resulted in what happened next. Only in wartime could it happen; in any other time, the circumstances would never had arisen.

Max meant to kiss her cheek, in the way a brother might kiss a weeping sister, to let her know it was all right. Sheila completely misinterpreted it, and turned her head at the same time. They ended up lips to lips. Neither had been kissed that often, so for it to happen was at once frightening and exciting.

They remained that way for a moment, just enjoying the feeling. Then, abruptly, they broke the kiss, pulling away from each other a little. Both were breathing hard, sticky with the drying rain. Sheila felt her heart pounding as if it wanted to tear itself from her chest, and her face was flush, leaving her feeling faint.

Max was having similar feelings. His stomach seemed to flip in delicious desire, and his brain hurt. _Oh my God, _his thoughts kept repeating, _it's going to happen. I don't know why, or how, but it's going to happen._ Both of them hesitated a moment, standing on the knife-edge of turning away and laughing about it, or going forward and hurtling towards something neither could see but desperately wanted. They chose the latter.

The rain let up half an hour later, but for the two lovers now intertwined on the bed, it hardly mattered.

* * *

Calla Bighorn-Vlata watched as the rain picked up its skirts and blew itself out to sea. He watched the clouds for a moment, then looked down at his desk, and the orders there. They were to report to Sudeten with his regiment. He knew through the mercenary grapevine that similar orders had gone to Morgan Kell and Ariana Winston. His Sentinels were hardly the caliber of the Kell Hounds or the Eridani Light Horse, but it meant that the AFFC was no longer content with just holding the line. Blackjack had been a preview; the main performance was about to begin.

"Looks like summer's over," he sighed.

For the Sentinels were going back to war.


End file.
